And Then I Saw Red

1. Remember

The ducks wallowing in the hospital ground's pond had no idea Natasha's world had just ended. Her work, her shame, her strength, her life, had come crashing down in the embers of Insight. Her hopes and dreams were as scattered as the shells of the helicarriers that had rained down on Washington. She had so much to answer for… and so many questions she still needed answering.

Reaching into the bag on her knee, she tore a few scraps of kale and tossed them to the water. The ducks knew what life was about. You grab your food before it sinks. And they did, gobbling down the green chunks and watching warily for more. She obliged.

Footsteps. Gravel crunching underfoot. Heavy. Male. Someone approaching from behind, from the left. Natasha didn't tense, because that would've given away the element of surprise, but she did reach her fingers into her sleeve, to brush them against the thin edge of the cold steel blade tucked out of sight. Prepared for a fight, she waited. Patient. Just like her namesake.

"I'm surprised to find you here," said a familiar voice.

The leather-clad figure of Fury stepped forward, into her line of sight, and Natasha relinquished her touch on her blade. She could count on one hand the number of people she trusted in the world, and Fury was pretty damn near the top of that list.

She decided to nibble on the line he cast. Take his bait. See where it led. Scooting over on the bench to allow him room to sit, she asked, "Oh?"

He settled, his leather jacket creaking. It was frayed and singed around one corner, and the man who wore it still smelt of blood and sweat, of a man who had come too close to the Reaper's touch. The ducks paddled away, unnerved by this menacing, food-less stranger.

"Figured you'd be upstairs, keeping an eye on things."

Fury gestured to one of the windows in the side of the building overlooking the garden, and Natasha's gaze followed. She knew whose room he was indicating. She knew who lay on that bed. And she knew that when he woke up, he was going to have a lot of questions. Even more than she had.

"Wilson's keeping a vigil over Steve… he has that whole 'fanboy' thing going on," she said, though she took the venom out of her words. Sam Wilson seemed to be a good man. Maybe one day, she'd need to start using two hands for counting those trustworthy people. "Besides, our barbecued-badguy is under armed guard and unlikely to be jumping out of bed anytime soon." And it was nothing less than Rumlow deserved. With any luck, he'd do the world a favour and die. It wasn't as if he had anything left to live for.

And what do I have to live for?

She pushed away the traitorous thought. Sure, things were dark right now, but there was always a light to be found in dark places. She'd found one, years ago, in Clint Barton. And she suspected that if she stuck around Steve Rogers long enough, he'd help her find another light to cling to.

"Did you know?" asked Fury, breaking the late-afternoon silence of the garden. "When you set Rogers on the Winter Soldier's trail, did you know?"

The accusation cut like a dagger to the heart. She wanted to curl up into a protective ball to stem the pain… or lash out and direct it somewhere else. Before she could resort to either, she slipped a leash on her anger. Buried the heartache along with her regret. What was done was done. There could be no going back.

"No."

"Hmm."

Natasha cursed herself for taking so long to answer. Fury was a master at reading silences, and for every piece of information he let you know he held, there were another ten waiting to be revealed. Even now, with his world in ashes, he was clinging onto the life that he knew. Perhaps he simply didn't know how to be anything else.

Do I?

The question unsettled her so much that, to cover up her discomfort, she reached into the bag and pulled out another handful of kale. This one was hurled with more force than she'd intended. The ducks gave her a dirty look as the vegetable-missile splashed them. Still, they went for the food.

"We did the right thing," she said.

"Are you telling that to me, or to yourself?" Fury countered. Always too damn astute for his own good. "Hill's already looking for the next assignment. She's moving on. Figures she'd be worth something to Stark… and will no doubt have her fingers in a dozen different Tony Stark pies by the end of the week. Why aren't you doing the same?"

For a long moment, she said nothing. What could she say? That she was lost? Adrift? That she wasn't sure if she had it in her to start over again? That she'd seen so much and done so much as the Black Widow, that maybe now it was time to just be Natasha Romanoff?

Or Natalia Alianova? That cyber-cretin, Zola… he knew all about me. HYDRA knew all about me. What else is hidden in the ruins of their databanks?

"Maybe I'm tired," she admitted. "Of the lies and the subterfuge and living constantly on the edge. Of dodging bullets and dodging the questions of friends. Maybe I'm tired of living in the darkness. Maybe it's time to step into the light."

"So you're going to stick with Rogers? You know the first thing he's going to do is run after Barnes."

Natasha forced her hands to relax. To not grip the bag of kale and twist. All too easy to imagine Alexander Pierce's neck in place of the leaves. Part of her—the Red Room part—wished she could've truly wrung his neck. It seemed so unfair, that he'd caused so much pain and suffering… and he'd gotten off lightly with a bullet to the shrivelled lump of his heart. Lighter than she. Lighter than Steve. Lighter than the Winter Soldier.

"No. I can't." There is no going back. "I'll see what intel I can dig up for Steve, but finding Barnes… that's up to him."

"Because you're tired? Or because you're afraid he might remember you?"

She didn't answer. She was afraid he might remember. But she was equally afraid that he wouldn't remember. That the missions they'd been on, the stolen moments, the brief flickers of warmth they'd shared… that they'd just be gone, like the swiftly fading sunlight. That the risks they'd taken and the sacrifices they'd made would be for nothing, because time and time again HYDRA had wiped them away.

"Did you truly have no idea that the man you… knew professionally in your former life… was Barnes?"

She shook her head. Didn't want to talk about it. But also… did. She couldn't talk with Steve. It would be awkward, to say the least. But Fury… he probably knew it all anyway. Could probably tell it better than she, too.

"I knew he shot me, in Odessa. But that was just business. I knew he'd been around for a long time, but I thought that the Winter Soldier was a codename for a long line of assassins… like the Black Widow. If I'd known who he was…"

What? What would she have done, or said? Back then, the name would've meant nothing to her. Steve Rogers and Captain America meant nothing to her. Even after meeting Steve, and learning who Barnes was… if he ever learnt she'd been so close to the Winter Soldier, he would never trust her again. She thought for sure she'd slipped up in the HYDRA armoured truck after she'd been shot. Thought he'd see right through her fear and her lie. But he and Wilson had put her distress down to blood loss. It was for the best.

"Maybe I can help track him down," said Fury. "I still have contacts. I'll shake a few trees, see what fruit falls loose, and send any information on the quiet to Rogers."

Natasha nodded. Very soon, Steve would wake up, and he would demand answers. But the world was already demanding them. What had happened to Insight? How had SHIELD fallen? Was HYDRA truly gone? Fury was about to go dark. Hill was already hopping into a new bed, and Rogers had a best friend to save. Somebody had to answer for what had happened within SHIELD. Perhaps that somebody should be her.

"I'm gonna need intel from you," said Fury. "Dates, locations… missions." Victims. "Anything you can give me to help dig up cold, hard facts."

"Where do I start?" she sighed.

"How about you start at the beginning?"

"Sure." She pulled out another handful of kale dumped it into the pond. At least somebody would be well-fed today. "It was 1999, New Year's eve—the turn of the millennium. The skies of St. Petersburg were alive with colour and sound… the perfect conditions for an assassin to operate. I was fifteen, just a girl, and not yet the Black Widow. It was supposed to be my initiation. I was sent to kill a politician who was standing in the way of somebody important. I got into the house by climbing up the drain pipe and sneaking in via the child's bedroom." She looked out across the pond as the ghost of memory came back to haunt her. "The first thing I saw was the little girl's doll, abandoned on the floor. And then, I saw red…"


Author's note: This story comes as a result of a conversation I had with cairistiona7 about how the MCU might retcon a past WinterWidow relationship if they decide to go down that path. So, I thought I'd take a stab at it! Please Follow to keep updated, as chapters will not come regularly.

This story is not canon for any of my other stories, and this is the only fic I'll ever write that features a WinterWidow shipping. Also, there is no future-Bucky in this story, only an exploration of the Winter Soldier and Black Widow's past. Story will be T (maybe M) for violence, no smut. The cover image is credited to Greg Land.